


and when we are silent

by taiyakeo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: HQ Rarepair Bang 2020, M/M, and i love them, because rice, come on rice is amazing, hands up for rice, just soft cooking, like sweetness and lightning i guess?, please give kugushiba love, they're soft!, tw: anxious/worried thoughts, tw: brief mention of smoky skies, why chazuke?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taiyakeo/pseuds/taiyakeo
Summary: Shibayama fears conversations. Talking means expectations--having the right answers to questions, having enough wit to make people laugh, not saying too much or too little. Kuguri's fine with silence, and maybe it's fine not to have any expectations but to enjoy chazuke together.
Relationships: Kuguri Naoyasu/Shibayama Yuuki
Comments: 7
Kudos: 87
Collections: HQ Rarepair Bang 2020





	and when we are silent

**Author's Note:**

> [rin](https://twitter.com/besshouwu?lang=en) did some amazing beautiful [art](https://twitter.com/besshouwu/status/1247708486584143873?s=19) for this fic! kugushiba are so precious aaahhh;;

Telephone lines stretched like limp snakes outside the window, flashing past as the train went by. There was the noise of gravel scattering outside on the tracks. Shibayama struggled to stay upright as the train teetered forward in the same fashion he did when he was about to run into someone, rocking backwards on its heels and whistling a soft apology. He dug his nails into his fingers, biting down on his tongue. The next stop was coming--it just had to go past a bend, then it'd be at the station. He always feared getting off; what if somebody was in his way? What if he said "excuse me" in a weird way and they stared at him? What if he said it too softly? Would he have to repeat it? What if they'd heard but simply didn't want to move? He'd developed a habit of waking up early so that he could avoid rush hour and ride near-empty trains and wouldn't have to struggle with crowded carriages, but his fear still stuck. He wondered if Kuguri was troubled by him coming over so early and he felt stupid for not being able to handle crowds. 

The prospect of going to Kuguri's house had been an exciting one at five-thirty in the evening two days before, but now he was beginning to wonder if Kuguri really wanted him there. What if he simply pitied Shibayama and that was why he hadn't turned him down? Maybe he could call Kuguri and tell him he'd fallen ill in the night, so it was impossible to go after all… Then again, it'd taken him quite a while to get here, and it'd be a shame to waste all that time and money, and Kuguri would be disappointed. Shibayama's friends got upset when he couldn't meet them often, and this was his boyfriend, so wouldn't he have to spend even more time with him to maintain their relationship? He couldn't ditch now. His eyes flicked to the lady standing next to him, only briefly because if he looked too long it'd seem like he was staring, wondering if she was getting off soon too. It'd look strange if he was the only one stopping there, wouldn't it? 

Then he had no more time to think, because the train was suddenly pulling into the relatively empty platform. 

"I'm getting off," he murmured to himself, jolting a little at the strange look he received from the lady. He began to walk faster, hoping she'd forget. If only he was more like Inuoka--if only he could handle the mortifying ordeal of being around people!

The sky outside was light grey, as though ash had spread out in the sky and settled in every free crevice of cloud to paint the entire city in shadow. The atmosphere was startlingly like a horror movie, just before an unsuspecting child or woman or thick-headed white man got grabbed and mauled. But Shibayama wasn't an unsuspecting child (because he was suspecting it), woman (obviously) or a thick-headed white man (even more obviously). Still, he was careful to look over his shoulder, pressing his back against the freezing cold metal of a pillar to fumble in his pocket for his phone. 

_i'm at the station,_ he managed to type out, shaking his hands like he had cramp, the cold of his phone screen (seriously, he'd kept it in his pocket, how was it this cold?) biting into his fingers. 

He waited for a moment for the reply. 

_OK._

He couldn't help but bite his tongue. 'OK' was curt, right? Sure, Kuguri was using slang, but usually he'd say 'Got it.', so was he mad at him? What had he done? He shook his head, remembering what Inuoka had told him. 

_If you think someone's angry at you, then talk to them. People'll be confused if you don't communicate and you'll worry yourself sick._

_Easier said than done,_ he thought, but pocketed his phone and went through the gantry anyway. He found Kuguri nearly immediately (it was the hair, and the Nohebi jacket), leaning against a pillar with his back turned to Shibayama. Something tugged in Shibayama’s chest, making the tips of his fingers tickle. It was always like this when they met up after a while. It always felt strange, unfamiliar, like it was their first time, but it wasn't so bad. 

_i'm here_

He wasn't sure why he was texting instead of simply calling out, but his fingers worked faster than his brain. 

_Where? I don't see you._

_is that you leaning against the pillar_

His hands were shaking now. It was the cold, he told himself. He should've brought his gloves along, but he'd forgotten. He stifled a laugh, remembering the terrible tacky cat paw gloves Kuroo got him for his birthday. They were comfortable, sure, but the pink paw pads were far too much. He couldn't wear those outside--it was too strange. 

Kuguri turned, eyes searching for a moment before he found Shibayama. His expression was bored, just like always.

Better than angry. 

"Hello," Shibayama said, then realised he was too far and too soft to be heard. He waved instead, and Kuguri waved back. 

He walked closer, nearly tripping over himself in his hurry. 

"Have you eaten breakfast?" 

Kuguri was startlingly polite for someone who could so easily break his neck. A while ago he would have assumed the question was Kuguri gauging how energised he was so he could take him in a fight, or mug him--Wait, didn't that seem possible? He was far from home, and nobody would expect him back for a while… 

"Shibayama-kun?" 

He started a little. "Oh, sorry, no, I haven't eaten." He must have been overthinking again. Kuguri was probably just concerned, and anyway he'd told Inuoka where he was, so if he went missing the police knew where to find him. "But--I don't need breakfast!" 

Kuguri raised his eyebrows, staring at him. His cheeks flushed, he knew what Kuguri was thinking. _Aren't you too small to be saying you don't need to eat? Is this why you're so short? You'll never get anywhere in volleyball if you d--_

"You shouldn't wait until you're hungry. I haven't eaten yet either, so we can do that together. I'll make something from the leftovers in the fridge." 

He hadn't considered Kuguri being hungry. Had he been inconsiderate in his refusal?

"Okay. Thank you. Sorry." 

Kuguri paused for a moment. He seemed to be thinking, looking into Shibayama's face and trying to comprehend--something. Shibayama couldn't tell what. Inuoka was good at reading people, but he wasn't. He wondered if Kuguri could. He always seemed to know what Shibayama wanted, deep within himself, even if he couldn't verbalise it, and he felt terrible for not being able to do the same. It was how any relationship worked, wasn't it? Even if it wasn't romantic like theirs, people got into relationships to benefit themselves, but if he couldn't do anything to make Kuguri happy, then what was the point? 

"Kuguri?" 

His voice came out nervous and a little shaky. He regretted it--what if Kuguri took that as distrust? 

"Mm? Sorry, I got distracted." He reached out to ruffle Shibayama's hair. He relaxed a little. So Kuguri wasn't mad, and he didn't seem to be reconsidering anything for now. His fingers felt nice--not in a weird way, but it reminded him of something his mother used to do when he was a child to help him sleep. 

"I haven't seen you like this in a while. Like, in person, outside of the court." He looked up at Kuguri, who'd regrettably pulled his hand away. "I'm sorry I missed Christmas with you." 

"Couldn't be helped. You're here now--" Kuguri tried to balance on one leg, fumbling with his keys. "Hold on, we're here." He ducked through the door, Shibayama tailing behind him. 

"Sorry for the intrusion," Shibayama murmured. He still wasn't used to Kuguri's house. The smell of vanilla candles that always seemed to be burning ("Habit," he'd shrugged when asked about it) was disorientingly pleasant, the lack of rugs where rugs would have been in his own home surprising to him each time he took a step forward. He supposed it was his own unfamiliarity that made him slightly out of place no matter where he was in the house. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable, but he didn't know how to act or what to do, and that made him feel scared. 

"My mom's not home," Kuguri said, seeing Shibayama's eyes settle on the dark rooms down the corridor in the house. "You don't have to worry." 

"I'm not worried!" His voice was shrill, too shrill. 

Kuguri simply tilted his head, expression settling on something unusually close to fondness. He walked into the kitchen, Shibayama still unconsciously following him. 

"You don't always have to be behind me." He opened the fridge, pulling out a few containers of ingredients. Shibayama shuffled back, leaning hesitantly against the counter. 

"It's a bit strange to be in your house when you aren't there." 

"Are you scared of being alone?" His lips twitched into something resembling a smile. "It's okay. You can stay here in the kitchen with me if you like." 

Shibayama watched as he turned on the rice cooker and put the salmon in to bake. The kitchen smelt good, even if he hadn't even begun cooking properly yet.

"Can I help?" He nudged Kuguri's shoulder with his cheek, a habit he couldn't quite shake. 

Kuguri hummed something and leaned his head on Shibayama's. "Maybe you can take your coat off first?" 

He looked down at himself, feeling like an imbecile. "Oh, right. Sorry." He struggled out of it (it was far too tight and old, but he didn't feel like asking his parents for a new one so long as it kept him warm) and hung it up. 

He made an odd gesture, flexing his nonexistent muscles and feeling instant regret. "I'm ready!"

"What are you doing?" Kuguri huffed a laugh. 

"I don't know!" He stood up straight again, suppressing the urge to salute. Why couldn't he stop doing awkward things when he didn't know what to do?

"Can you crush these?" 

Kuguri slid a small bag of rice crackers over. 

"With… my hands?" He squished the bag, feeling the other side inflate slightly. At home he'd use a mortar and pester, but he supposed he'd have to summon what little strength he had now and use his hands instead. Again there was that icky feeling of 'Why did I ask that?' welling in his stomach. He couldn't seem to stop asking obvious questions. 

"Yes, please." 

Surprise washed through him. He didn't know why he kept expecting Kuguri to mock or tease him.

"Okay. I'll try." He began to crack individual rice crackers into pieces. "Like this?" 

Kuguri glanced over, squinting. "A little harder? And don't crack one at once. Like--" He pulled the bag a little closer to himself, smashing multiple at once. "Try pounding them." 

Kuguri was strong, he thought. Far stronger than him. No wonder he was so good at volleyball. Shibayama was always ashamed of himself, never being able to carry tables or chairs back to their places after practice like the others. He was simply too weak, especially for someone who played sports. Maybe he should work out. 

Eventually, the rice crackers were all smashed, and Kuguri began to scoop rice into the bowls. In the time it'd taken for Shibayama to finish with the crackers, Kuguri had already gotten tea brewed in a pot. 

"Good job," he commented, bumping Shibayama gently with his shoulder. "That'll be tasty." 

Personally Shibayama thought he'd done a shoddy job, but if Kuguri liked it then maybe it wasn't so bad. He peered into the pot. 

" _Genmaicha,_ " Kuguri said automatically. "I know you like it better than _Sencha_." 

Shibayama nodded, helping to spoon in some of the salmon flakes in. "It smells nice. Thank you, Kuguri." 

"Thanks for helping." 

They carried their bowls out to the table, settling down. Shibayama blew at his rice, eyes widening as Kuguri ate a spoonful of steaming rice and tea. 

"You'll burn yourself!" he whisper-shrieked. "Don't do that!" 

"If you blow it, it gets too cold. It's supposed to warm you up. Here--" Kuguri at least blew twice on the next spoonful, reaching forward to nudge his spoon against Shibayama's mouth. It took him a moment to realise what was happening. He opened his mouth, managing somehow to eat the rice without choking. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks for reasons totally unrelated to the warmth of the rice. He covered his face; when he flushed there wasn't a pretty pink, evenly spread colour to his skin, it was more of an ugly lobster-red mottling that made it seem like he had a terrible sunburn or some sort of repulsive rash.

"Thank you." he said. His words felt clipped. "Um… It tastes nice." He gave a double thumbs up. Kuguri raised his fist to bump their knuckles against each other. 

"That's good, then."

They sat in silence. It wasn't the sort of silence that Shibayama was used to, awkward and suffocating, with him struggling to find words to spew out just for something to happen. Kuguri made silence okay. There was something about his manner, the reassuring patience with which he talked, looked, touched, that made him comfortable and drowned out the panic that so often crawled up the back of his throat to strangle him. The silence was warm, fluffy, and it felt good. He didn't have to find topics to talk about, he didn't have to explain himself and fear being wrong. He didn't have to worry about being "too quiet", and they both liked it this way. 

He swung his legs, taking care not to kick Kuguri, but their legs bumped anyway. Kuguri was looking at him--not questioning, just looking--and this time Shibayama was sure that it was fondness in his eyes. Shibayama rolled a roasted sesame seed round in his mouth, cracking it beneath his teeth when the flavour faded. 

There was something about Kuguri when he was cooking that felt so peaceful and good that Shibayama found himself calmed. There was nothing else that mattered than the ingredients, and making something just for the two of them. If he messed it up, Kuguri would patiently guide him and demonstrate the right way until he got the hang of it, and he wouldn't be mad. Nothing could explode or go wrong if Kuguri was there, because he cooked a lot, so he'd know how to deal with a problem. Now it was just them and their ochazuke, and it felt nice. 

The rice was warm and pleasantly sticky, the seaweed crunchy in the right way and the tea neither too hot nor too cold. He didn't know how Kuguri had managed that, tea was always burn-your-mouth, scaldingly hot or suddenly so cold and disgusting that he didn't feel like drinking it anymore. It reminded him of--what was it? He remembered Kuroo talking about something like an acid and an alkali being poured slowly into a test tube--no, it was one of the substances in a flask, and then you had to slowly drip something else in until it changed colour. That was it, trying to hit the warm point where the colour--temperature--was just right, but then it slipped right by you so quickly that you didn't feel like trying at all because you were bound to fail. 

"Thank you for the food," Shibayama said when he was finished, taking Kuguri's bowl to the sink for him. 

"You made it, too. Thank you." Kuguri was the one following him now, reaching over his head to help him get the faucet (it was one of those extendable ones, and it was too far for his tiny arms to reach). "You don't have to wash up, I'll do that later." 

Without thinking, Shibayama leaned back into Kuguri. His breath was warm where it huffed out in surprise into his hair, but soon enough he was pressing his cheek into the top of his head. 

"Tired?"

"Mm. You live far away." It sounded vaguely like he was blaming Kuguri, and he stiffened, though Kuguri didn't seem to notice, remaining where he was draped over Shibayama like a cat over a radiator.

"I'll come to you next time, then, yeah?" 

Shibayama didn't realise he was holding his breath until Kuguri was asking him another question, gently brushing his sideburns with a finger.

"Sorry. What?" 

"I asked if you wanted some omurice later. We can go and get some," Kuguri repeated slowly. His drawl was even lazier than usual, like he'd somehow gotten drunk. Warm rice had that effect on him. 

"Sure. that's okay." 

Kuguri hummed again, this time right up against Shibayama's forehead. It took a lot of jaw clenching to not giggle at how ticklish his breath was, but somehow he managed to pull through with a false cough. 

"Do you want to do soba for dinner? You like that, don't you?" 

"Anything's fine." 

Kuguri was good at distracting him, always observing for when he began to panic and asking questions to redirect his thinking. He wondered if he ever did anything like that for Kuguri. 

Kuguri's hands were warm as they moved up to pet his hair, carding through the strands and pausing only to drag his fingers lightly over Shibayama's cheeks. He never let Shibayama bear the full weight of his head, only carefully pressing his cheek against Shibayama's hair--not gingerly, that wasn't the word, but it was more of a practised precision, knowing how much pressure was the most comfortable to the both of them. Shibayama leaned his head back more to bop softly against him, like an unsaid it feels nice. 

His hand hovered above Shibayama's, tilting his head like he was asking for permission. Shibayama nodded, taking care not to accidentally headbutt Kuguri in the jugular, sighing as Kuguri put their fingers together and squished his thumb round Shibayama's hand. Shibayama shifted his own thumb to the back of Kuguri's hand, squeezing it. This was what they called a 'finger hug', something Shibayama had grown up doing with his family (who were obviously very prone to strange expressions of affection). Kuguri always made sure he was okay with doing it, insisting that it was important that Shibayama wasn't scared by being touched. 

They stayed like that for a while, cheek to head, hand to hand. 

_I love you,_ Shibayama wanted to say. 

He remained quiet. There was no need to verbalise it. They were comfortable in the silence.

**Author's Note:**

> im such a clown i literally wrote the notes for another kugushiba fic in here SGDJKDHAKJFH IM SO BLIND AAAHHHHHHH


End file.
